


Consequences

by Kivrin



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-10
Updated: 2005-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:50:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivrin/pseuds/Kivrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles has a bad night on patrol and Wesley gives him a talking-to. Set sometime post-Chosen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consequences

"And what was it?"

"As I believe I mentioned before, a _vampire_ ," Rupert said. He jerked his head away from Wesley's touch, then groaned. "Oh, god..."

Wesley poured antiseptic on a fresh piece of gauze. "You'll feel much better if you keep still."

"That stings."

"Yes, well, you managed to get most of the road ground into your face, and I'd rather like to reduce the risk of infection." Wesley dabbed at the ugly abrasion.

Rupert hissed a curse. "Burns like the devil," he complained.

"Means it's working. Didn't Matron ever tell you that?"

"Oh, god." He shut his eyes.

"Rupert. _Rupert_ ," Wesley snapped. "Stay awake."

Rupert grumbled.

"A vampire, yes? Leapt out of the car, attacked the girl..."

"Alyssa," Rupert corrected.

"Alyssa, yes. Attacked her and knocked you flat out on the pavement when you tried to intervene. Is that right?"

"In a broad sense. I did manage to get a few blows in."

"And then he hit you... with what, again?"

"With a _spanner_."

"Where did he get a spanner from?"

"I don't bloody know!" Rupert winced again. "It was in the boot, presumably."

"Christ, Rupert."

"Alyssa tackled him; I didn't get the full force of the blow."

"If you had you'd be dead rather than just concussed. _Again._ " Wesley heard the high tightness of panic in his own voice and drew a slow breath. "I really wish you'd let her take you to hospital," he finished in a steadier tone.

"Council medic checked me over." Rupert opened his eyes just a bit. "I'm all right."

Wesley carefully stuck down a bandage over Rupert's forehead and laid a hand on his pale cheek. "I really wish you wouldn't do this," Wesley said softly.

Rupert's eyes opened more fully. "What?"

"Patrolling. It's bad enough when you go with one of the original slayers. With the new ones, the little girls... they haven't had enough training, they've no instincts, and there's no rapport between you. It..."

"Wesley, my darling man, if you have a viable alternative I shall be delighted to entertain it, but for the moment could we possible consider me soundly chastized and move on to the portion of the evening in which I get to go to bed and possibly have some painkillers?" Rupert put on his most winsome expression and smiled hopefully.

Wesley kept his expression fierce. " _Rupert_. You can't keep... what are you going to have left for an apocalypse if you're getting hit on the head with _spanners_ every night? Delegate, for god's sake! You've an entire raft of Slayers who were at least partially trained. Pair them off with the new girls, or something, but this absolutely must stop. Absolutely. Do you understand?"

Rupert started to nod, then grimaced. "Yes."

"All right then." Wesley patted his cheek lightly. "Come, now..." 

Groaning, Rupert let Wesley haul him up from the depths of the sofa. "Oh, good lord..."

Wesley got an arm around his waist. "You stupid bugger," he said softly. "What am I to do with you, hm?" He kissed Rupert's cheek. 

Rupert melted at the kiss. "You could drag me off to L.A. and lock me in your flat to cook and keep house and - ugh... no, it's all right, just dizzy for a moment - ravish you every evening."

"Don't tempt me." Wesley steadied him. "Besides, you hate Los Angeles."

"Don't hate Los Angeles, I hate..." Rupert stopped abruptly. "Hate the climate," he finished.

Wesley brushed Rupert's scarred hand with his own. "I know. Never mind. I'm here now, that's the main thing. Let's get you to bed."

"The main thing," Rupert echoed. "Yes. Thank you." He let Wesley help him down the short hall to the bedroom and strip him down to his shorts. By the time Wesley had him tucked under the covers, he seemed nearly asleep. "Sorry," he mumbled, when Wesley smoothed the counterpane.

"Shh, for what?"

"Everything." Rupert quirked a corner of his mouth. "Mainly... grumping at you when you wake me up. Later."

"Never mind that." Wesley stroked his hair back from the bandage. "Sleep now, dear. Sleep."

"Hmm," Rupert agreed.

When his breathing evened and deepened, Wesley bent and dropped a kiss on his forehead. "Oh, Rupert," he murmured. "You stubborn, stubborn man."

**Author's Note:**

> From the Watcherlove Giles/Wesley community on Livejournal. In response to the prompts (from Bethynyc) original, fierce, risk AND One of our boys is hurt (physical or emotional) AND the Edward Gorey quotation "It was in the trunk presumably."


End file.
